


The FrUK Chronicles

by PossiblyCarstairs13



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-14
Packaged: 2018-09-14 04:19:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9161122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PossiblyCarstairs13/pseuds/PossiblyCarstairs13
Summary: “Um-Uh...Hello?” Shocked, Francis went to the lobby to see for himself. He was about Francis’s height, which was not tall, and he had messy blond hair. He stared at Francis with gorgeous green eyes however, he wore clothes that an old man would be embarrassed to be seen in.





	1. The Dress Maker and A Man In Need Of A Suit

**Author's Note:**

> Don't own the characters just the idea of where they are

Francis pushed the doors of his store open. It was currently eight o'clock in the morning and the shoppe would not open for another two and a half hours. He flicked the lights on and headed to the back to begin putting dresses away. This big, stunning boutique was like a child of his. Sure he owned others throughout the US and Europe, but he really had outdone himself on this one (The store stationed in Paris was still better). The Frenchman quickly unstacked boxes and hung up the new additions to his stock in the back room. The showroom was quite large and there was a mannequin who needed to be put in a different dress since she had been stripped of a beaded ball gown the day before. As Francis pulled the plastic woman from the stand, the bell rang as the front doors were pushed open. His staff should not be here…  
“Bonjour!” He called anyway and a man's voice answered  
“Um-Uh...Hello?” Shocked, Francis went to the lobby to see for himself. He was about Francis’s height, which was not tall, and he had messy blond hair. He stared at Francis with gorgeous green eyes however, he wore clothes that an old man would be embarrassed to be seen in.  
“Do you sell suits here?” He asked  
“Why yes we do! We have a very limited amount though, but I bet we will find one that suits you” Francis mentally congratulated himself for the pun as he led the man past the showroom to a walk in closet by the dressing rooms.  
“Well, here we are!” The man looked around, seemingly lost.  
“Do you need any help?”  
“Possibly...Sizes run different here I think…”  
“Different from where?” The Frenchman asked, a bit excited to know more about the handsome stranger.  
“The U.K.” He answered simply  
“Where in the U.K.? You sound like you're from England”  
“And you're from France”  
Francis chuckled “Yes I am”  
“A lot can be found out about a person from their speech” The Brit said, pushing another suit to the side and examining the next one “I moved so often, first I lived in Scotland with my oldest brother and the twins who were the second youngest children and the second oldest who was also a boy, then the four of us moved to Ireland. From there we went to North Ireland for two years and then to Wales, which was very nice. Then, as everyone began to pack for Ireland again I turned eighteen and moved to London. Then I got a job and had to move here. Very dreadful job by the way”  
“Oh you must be tired of moving then”  
“Of course”  
“So did you meet your fiancé/fiancée here?”  
“Excuse me?” The man asked, clearly confused by the question  
“Well I mean, when's the wedding?”  
“There is no wedding” He muttered, looking at the tag of one of the more casual looking suits  
“Then why are you here!?” Francis exclaimed, seeing the man smirk a bit  
“I'm presenting at work today but I only have two nice suits, the rest are not very fancy. I live right by here so instead of going into the heart of the Fashion District, I decided to come here” It was flattering to hear that his store was convenient for the businessman but, this was quite odd.  
“Well since you need a business suit not a marriage suit, You can help yourself a moment while I check on the front desk-”  
“Wait-I mean please don't leave. I'm not the master of fashion, and by looking at you I can tell you have experience…” The Brit seemed reluctant to speak “I need your help” it was quiet but loud enough to hear. Francis beamed and put a hand on the other man's shoulder.  
“I think I do have a piece that will look very nice on you! Also you are very correct about the experience. I graduated from ‘École de la chambre syndicale de la couture’ It's a very high ranked fashion school. Then I started designing dresses and selling them, quite a few of these are mine, and opened a store on the outskirts of Paris!”  
“Hmm...Don't think I've heard of you”  
“Francis Bonnefoy”  
“Pardon?”  
“That's my name mon ami”  
“Oh. Well I'm Arthur Kirkland if you must know”  
“Well I really should know the names of my customers so thank you!”  
Francis helped the gentleman pick out a stylish black and blue striped coat with black slacks. He already owned shoes and a dress shirt so he was good to go.  
“Do you mind if I change here?”  
“Not at all” Francis was finally able to go to the front desk and check his email for new deliveries. Sure enough, some dresses were being shipped from Germany on a plane and on a truck from California. His staff began coming in, saying hello and heading to the staff lounge to get coffee. Arthur came from the showroom and looked amazing. Francis told himself that he must impress this man. The Bri-Arthur approached the desk and asked if he looked okay.  
“Okay? You look amazingly handsome!” Arthur blushed  
“Sure...Do you mind if I just rent this? It's only one presentation and I don't feel like spending two hundred dollars, tax included, on a suit I'll wear once”  
“Of course. You pay the rental fee when you return it” Francis lied  
“Thank you very much” And with that Arthur The Very Good-Looking Brit was gone  
•••  
*Ding Ding*  
Francis turned from the secretary, who he was speaking to, to see a group of eight women at the door. They stared at him with heart eyes as he approached them...He was used to it, it was one of the perks of being beautiful.  
“Bonjour! Oh you all look so beautiful, which one of you is the bride? Is it you?” He asked the smallest girl who could not have been more than nine. She blushed and hid behind one of the other women.  
“That would me” The woman who responded had very sharp features, deep brown eyes and blonde-almost-white hair that hung past her hips.  
“My my, I already have a dress in kind for you! But before we head off to the showroom, is there anything in particular that you were looking for?”  
“Uh-yeah! It's the most beautiful dress ever and that's the only one I want” the bride said through her thick Jersey accent. Francis sighed internally, bratty customers were the worst customers. Even worse than the indecisive ones.  
“May I see it?” The woman handed him her phone, the blindingly white dress on the screen. It was hideous. It had feathers around the collar and sleeves that hung to the floor. The dress itself was knee length with lace train. It didn't look like a wedding dress, it looked like a sick science experiment.  
“Okay then. Well I'll see if we have this in stock”~we don't~he thought “And I'll be back in a moment” ~and when I do I'll have many pretty dresses for you~  
The first one he presented to the bride was one of his own dresses, it had a feathery bottom that puffed out like a ball gown and it had a lace up back like a corset. The top was a sweetheart neckline with no straps. The bride looked at the dress as if he had presented her a garbage bag.  
“What's that?”  
“Well since we don't have the dress you were looking for, I thought we could show you a few like it!”  
“Yeah Barrie you bitch! Try that one on” one of the bridesmaids shouted  
“Shut up Rica!”  
“Don't talk to your Ma like that asshole!”  
“Guys please don't fight in here-”  
“It's my wedding and she's ruining it!”  
“You're ruining your own wedding by trying to find this ugly, shitty, made up, contagious, gown that looks like a bird died on the shoulders and got stretched out to the size of your ass on a Thursday!”  
“Take that back!”  
Francis stood holding seven dresses as the whole family began yelling. He didn't know what to do. He didn't want to get punched in the face but then again, it was his store and they were embarrassing him. Finally he just walked away. Then, he heard a small voice calling.  
“Sir! French guy! Hey!”  
He turned around to see the nine year old smiling at him.  
“Can you show me some dresses?” Francis sighed, he had a weakness for kids  
“Of course dear” he took her to the back room, shouts still audible, and showed the girl the glittery dresses she was wishing to see.  
“Hey this is you!” She girl said pointing to the sign above his dresses. The sign read ‘Beautiful Bonnefoy’.  
“Yes it is, how did you know?”  
“I saw your name tag!”  
“You're very smart”  
“I know. So that dress you tried to give my aunt was made by you?”  
“Oui”  
“Cool!”  
She seemed really into fashion, she looked at every dress as if it was a diamond. Francis took her to the front desk and handed her a magazine. He was on the cover with a dress he made and it was full of his dresses.  
“Woah!” She yelled “This is so cool! This is you! You're famous!”  
“Not really…”  
“Don't deny it!” She flipped open the booklet and frowned “I can't read French”  
“Well I can! I can help if you want”  
“Okay! But first we should check on my asshole aunt”  
“Language dear” she laughed at him and ran off to find her family. This surely would be a long day.  
>TIME SKIP TO 10:45 PM<  
After finding out that every dress he owned was an ‘unworthy piece of shit’ he asked the Irvine family to leave. He let the girl keep the magazine though. Now, it was three hours after closing. His staff were all gone, and he was left. He insisted on putting everything away and unloading the delivery truck from Canada. There were ten huge boxes full of dresses. Seven boxes full of his designs and the rest were other brands. He spent the next six hours hanging dresses, unpackaging dresses, repackaging old dresses to be shipped away, cleaning the lobby and showroom and lastly fixing the speakers in the lobby so music would actually play. He passed out for a few minutes before jerking awake, wiping drool from the side of his mouth, realizing he was still at work. He stumbled to the door and out to the crosswalk before making it to the apartment complex where he lived. The Frenchman pressed the fifth floor button on the elevator and off it went. He had never been so happy to finally get to his apartment. He went to his room, kicked off his shoes and face planted into the mattress, falling asleep in his dress clothes while his face sunk into the bed.


	2. The Awful Secretary And The Crazy Brides

“SHIT” Francis screeched as he threw his pillow off his face, he was late for work at his own store. He ripped his shirt off and chucked it into the corner of his room, he would have to get it later. He stripped completely and multitasked beyond belief. He was getting dressed, brushing his teeth and fixing his hair all at the same time. Finally he snatched his phone from the charger and practically sprinted down the hall. The elevator took forever to get to his floor and by the time it did he had no patience left. He got in and rapidly pressed the button, though, he knew it wouldn't do anything. As he exited the complex he could see that his shoppe was packed. He sighed in despair and jogged the block there. Sure enough as he entered, plastering a smile on his face, it was chaos. There was not enough staff there to help all of the groups of brides at once so there was a not-so-single file line twisting around the lobby. Francis excused himself throughout the line until he got around the desk and checked his email again...Two truck deliveries overnight. It was only noon, how the trucks from Cali had gotten there so fast was beyond him. Francis knew he was needed and quickly snatched a group of ladies waiting in the front of the line.  
“Why hello ladies! Please come with me!”  
“Dear lord you're Mr. Bonnefoy! I didn't know you worked here!” Exclaimed a woman with big, hazel eyes  
“Well yes I do! I've worked at all of my stores before”  
“So cool!”  
“So! Which one of you lovely ladies is the bride?”  
“Well, we both are” a woman with a blue hair put her arm around the woman with the hazel eyes  
“Ohhhh!!! How adorable! Do you want to pick dresses together or separate?” Francis asked  
“Together” they replied in sync  
“But” said Eyes “Were not gonna let each other see what we pick so we're gonna look at dresses together” ~well that just makes my job that much easier~  
Since there were twice the brides, Francis decided to take the group to the back room instead of the crowded showroom. The women's mouths dropped as they entered the back room with the hundreds of dresses on a half moon shaped rack leading around the room. Francis paraded dresses around the room, some were turned down but must were added to the ever growing pile the ones they wanted to try on. He was about to set a limit since he did not feel like alphabetizing the dresses again tonight.  
“Mr. Bonnefoy?! You have an Arthur Kirkland here to see you? He cut the whole line this must be-” Francis cut her off by quickly exiting the room but not before he gave her some simple simple instructions.  
“Miss Carolson, I really need you to watch this group. From what I've seen they like taking things off the hangers and out of the bags before deciding if they like it or not….Please make sure none of the dresses get on the floor, even if they're in the bags still”  
“You can count on me sir” and with that Francis waltzed into the lobby where Arthur was being pelted with insults as he stood shouting at others to quit pushing him.  
“I am returning something! I have to pay a fee and I'll be done-Don't touch me!”  
“Arthur!” Francis called. The blond whipped around and pushed his way towards him, a suit folded over his arm.  
“I ironed and washed it before I came. Sorry I'm so late”  
“You're not late! I was late today, I got here at noon”  
“Stayed up to late designing dresses hm?”  
“Well….No I cleaned around here until I feel asleep on my desk” Arthur laughed at that, his laugh was loud and he snorted a bit when he laughed. It was adorable.  
“That's pretty great, Frog”  
“Why thank you, Grouch”  
“Grouch?”  
“Well you seem like the grouchy type”  
“Well thanks for stereotyping me” he chuckled  
“You called me Frog first”  
Then there was a crash. It was not loud, but loud enough for Francis to dash down the hall,Arthur following since he didn't want to stay in the lobby, to find the blue haired bride crying over a broken vase. Dresses littered the floor, a Starbucks coffee cup was tipped over and coffee rushed towards the cream colored dress that lay near it Francis caught the dress in his arms and called his secretary's name.  
“S-she had to go to her office” whimpered Blue Hair  
“Excuse me?”  
“She got a phone call” replied Eyes  
Francis sighed and Arthur awkwardly followed him to the personal offices of the staff. There were three, the secretary's office for when it got too loud to answer calls, the manager's office, and the tailor office where measurements were looked over again and dresses were altered in private. Francis opened the door to Miss Carolson’s office to find her nude, on top of the desk, being fingered by another man. He didn't work for Francis so he wouldn't have to fire two people today.  
“Am I interrupting?” Francis asked, the couple turned and the secretary screamed  
“Pervert!” Francis cringed at the name...After all, that was all he was in high school right?  
“Well I'm so sorry, I didn't know you would have a man in here elbow deep in your vagina” the two looked embarrassed and Arthur quickly turned away obviously getting second hand embarrassment.  
“Cover up, you're fired”  
“You can't fire me!” Carolson screamed  
“Oh yes I can! When you sneak off, let customers damage ten THOUSAND dollars worth of dresses and then get your cum all over a desk that I paid for, of course I can fire you! But first you're gonna clean up this mess then you're going to pay me back for the seven ruined dresses.” Francis took Arthur by the hand and dragged him away.  
“Everyone can I have your attention please!” Francis called to all of the brides in the lobby, everyone turned and looked “We’re closing right now, an hour early, I'm so sorry it's just that the overcrowding, the deliveries and staff issues are just too much so you can come and make reservations with a staff member to get ahead of tomorrow's customers if you would like...Brides only please. We don't need hovering family.”  
Arthur looked astonished “Am I allowed to return this now?”  
“Keep it”  
“I can't”  
“Why not?”  
“Well I need to come back and get another one soon so I have to have something to trade” The Brit replied, barely able to hear over the yells of brides. Francis was feeling risky…  
“Wanna go out to dinner after this evening?”  
“What? Like leave? Now? Don't you have to close up and make sure the secretary does her work?”  
“Honestly I could just sue her instead but I don't want magazines with the headline ‘French Fashion Designer Sues Secretary For Having Sex’ or some shit”  
“Alright then...But I have to back to my place and change...Mind coming along?”  
“Not at all”


	3. Apartments And Street Clothes

Sure enough Francis lived in the same apartment complex as Arthur. Arthur seemed nervous but Francis couldn't understand why. It's just a dinner date. As he entered the gentleman's apartment he was taken aback. It was so tidy and extremely British. He had British flag pillows on his black couch. An electric fireplace underneath the television which had a small bobble head that adorned some punk rocker on the shelf, that Francis had never heard of. There was a kettle by the stove and multiple candles, all of different scents, placed around the living room. The door to the hallway closet was open and it had old man jackets plus a single leather jacket in there and about five different pairs of black leather boots that all looked the same. It was dim in the room even with the lights on since the curtains were not open and also a bulb was out in the lamp by the television.  
“Well don't just stand there, come in” Arthur insisted. Francis smiled at him and in return he received a scowl. Artie ~hopefully that name will stick~ stalked off to his room to put on ‘street clothes’ which frightened Francis since so far the other man's wardrobe seemed very dull. After a while of waiting and deciding to plop onto the black couch, Arthur came around the corner in stylish green pants, tan jacket, striped shirt underneath and black converse high tops. ~Not bad Artie, not bad~ But, now Francis felt overdressed. Usually he'd be fine being overdressed for a date, but he didn't want the extra attention that his pink button up shirt, white pants, tan shoes and bouncy hair would bring.   
>TIME SKIP TEN MINS LATER<  
The two stepped out of the lift and into the hall. Arthur had never been up here, and he could see the difference between the different floors. This hall was thinner and more cramped. Francis looked unphased by the space change, probably since he was used to it. He opened the door and Arthur walked in. Everything from the curtains to the rugs were stylish. The curtains were cream, white, brown and hung all the way to the floor. The couches were white with red and purple pillows. A fuzzy white rug greeted you when you walked into the kitchen which was covered in appliances from red pans to blue handled knives. And lastly, the kitchen table was covered in papers. Arthur helped himself and picked one up. It was covered in colour swatches and French writing, which he could read. There were a few notes on there in rushed handwriting:  
~Beading on the bottom~  
~changed my mind, ditch the buttons on the back~  
~Eggshell white or pearl?~  
~probably pearl~   
~no ruffles, use tulle and lace instead~  
~fuck the sleeves, don't do it~  
Arthur laughed to himself as he read it  
“You can read French huh?” Arthur turned around to see Francis in more casual clothes as he promised. He wore skinny jeans, black boots, a red blazer with a black shirt and his hair was pulled back into a bun with a few strands of hair hanging out in the front still. He looked great. Arthur would never admit it though.  
“Yes I can...French was what I took all through college, high school and middle school...I'm not a fan of speaking it though”  
“Pourquoi?”   
“Cause I know I'll mess it up somehow”  
“You know, in France we really appreciate when others try to speak French”  
“When did you learn English?” Francis took a moment to think  
“In high school and college” it came out more like a question than a sure answer  
“You learned English at a fashion school?”  
“I had a tutor from the States”   
The two chattered along as they made their way to a bar down the road, where they would get a few drinks too many and a meal they wouldn't be able to finish


	4. The Hungover Brit and The Busy Frenchman

Francis woke when a stream of light hit his face. Opening his eyes was a mistake. The sun laughed as he squeezed his sensitive eyes shut and rolled over to discover another person in his bed. ~shit~ It was no other than Arthur. Francis would have slammed his beautiful face into the wall if it weren't for his post-drinking headache. He realized the other man was completely clothed minus, his shoes, and Francis himself was only shirtless, so nothing could have happened. He made a note that jeans were very uncomfortable to sleep in...Especially skinny jeans. Slowly, he got up to get to the bathroom to take every pill he could to get rid of his hangover symptoms. The bathroom reeked when he opened the door. His shirt sat in the tub covered in vomit, and by the taste in his mouth it wasn't his. He sighed, took his medicine and set the little trash bin next to the Brit just in case. Francis noticed, with further inspection, that he and Arthur both had marks lacing their necks. It was mostly Francis since he was the one with no shirt on. He realized that his store opened in an hour and got ready. Arthur didn't budge when the shower went on and then off, nor did he flinch when the hair dryer whirred to a start. He never heard the oven ding or the plates clatter as they were set out on the table. Francis checked Arthur's phone too, he had today off ~perfect~ he thought as he scribbled a note to the beautiful Englishman before happily making his way from the apartment.  
\-------  
Arthur woke up in an unknown bed. It smelled like roses, vanilla candles and wine. ~The frogs house!~  
“Francis…?” He called. No response. He realized there was a bucket next to him with a pink sticky note with scrawly writing.

‘Just in case! -Francis’

He sighed, stood up, and made his way into the bathroom. No retching occurred, though there were many close calls. Giving up, the green eyes man went to the living room where the smell of baked goods met his nose. Sure enough, with one look in the kitchen. There were a few croissants and a cup or tea waiting on the table next to another note.

‘If you don't feel like eating that's fine! Just thought I'd make you a little something before I left. The tea will make you feel better though and also take some meds for the hangover! -Francis’

~ugh! what a twat~ Arthur thought as he picked up the bread ~he didn't even wake me to tell me he was leaving~ He did have today off, not by choice but it was a good thing. He sipped the tea and took small bites of the French bread as he flipped through TV channels, waiting for the frog to come home  
\-------  
Francis swung the doors open to see his dear friend Michelle waiting for him. She was his top priority today so he took her and her friends out of the line first to assist them.  
“Bonjour Michelle! Oh it's been too long my dear come with me!” She smiled at him and followed to his office. The place was littered with fabrics, magazine pages, sewing supplies and even half a mannequin who lay sadly on the floor with needles stuck in the shoulders.  
“So how have you been!” Michelle watched as her dear friend cleared a few chairs so they could all sit down together. He moved the fabric containers to his already messy desk and the floor beside it. The office itself was large. It was in the second floor and took up a third of it. Only the richer and more demanding customers got to go to Mr. Bonnefoy’s personal office, but Michelle and her friends were of course an exception. She was getting married and she has not even told Francis who it is. She didn't want him to get upset. Not that he would...She just wanted him to still be the best man since she didn't choose a maid of honor so he could stand with her, no matter who she makes her vows with.  
“I'm good! I have a dress I'm looking for”  
Francis huffed after moving the mannequin across the room and dashed back  
“Let's see darling! Oh I hope you chose something gorgeous!” She pulled the picture up and to Francis’s surprise, it was bland. It was an average, normal, simple mermaid dress. No frills, no beading, no nothing, blank canvas dress.  
“Well!” She asked, excitement in her eyes  
“Umm…it's nice” he said ~I don't think I have such a boring looking dress in my inventory~  
“You don't like it?”  
“Y-”  
“Don't lie!”  
“No I don't” he said, giving up on hiding his true feelings towards the plain dress  
“Well good cause I'm having it shipped here and you get to alter it all you want!”  
“What!” He sprung up so fast that he almost fell on his ass “Really!”  
“Of course! You taught me all I know about fashion! Of course I wouldn't wear such a plain looking thing to my wedding!” Francis grabbed her hands and squealing like a happy school girl.  
“Alright then! Come on back tomorrow then!” Michelle kissed his cheeks and went off with her friends to go to another shoppe down the road. Francis whipped out his sketchbook and began drawing the basic mermaid dress. He added frills at the bottom, beading around the top, ditched the sleeves in favor of a deep neckline, and added a corset like back to it so it could show off the bride’s curves. He was interrupted by a distressed call from one of his staff members. He set off to find Matthias being scolded and yelled at by a plump woman who was told to go to the back of the like. The Danish teen only sighed and told her to please stop yelling in the store, which only made her yell more.  
“What seems to be the problem madame?” Francis asked as he approached the two. Honestly, he was the owner and should leave this to the staff to handle...But helping customers was something he thoroughly enjoyed.  
“Oh great there you are!” She bellowed “This dress is too small” she held up a dress in a bag that looked vaguely familiar to the Frenchman, probably because he is the one who made it.  
“Miss, I sold that dress weeks ago”  
“Yeah and I tried it on yesterday and it's to small! I'd like to exchange it”  
“It doesn't work like that here, come with me we can try to alter it!” Francis said as politely as he could. He took her past the dressing rooms to a spare office where the other tailors worked on Wednesdays and Fridays. She put the dress on and sure enough, she was popping out of it. Her bust looked like it would soon bust the dress, her rear was trying to peek out of the lace up back and her arms looked like sausages in the sleeves.  
“There is not much I can do...Let me try something though” he unlaced the back and watched the dress relax. An idea struck him like a match, and his creativity was set ablaze. He took out the lace up back, sewed some fabric in place of that and added a zipper instead of ribbon. Then he cut off the sleeves, extended them, and slowly reattached them. By the time he was done, however, the woman had fallen asleep on the bench.  
“The dress is done!” He called, startling the woman awake. She changed there, Francis’s back to her and when he turned around she glared.  
“How much do I gotta pay for this now?”  
“Four hundred sixty dollars dear”  
“Not bad...I'll take it I guess” He sighed and set her off back into the city, Matthias looked concerned but escorted another group into the showroom anyway. Francis felt his phone buzz and sure enough, it was his gentleman  
From Artie  
Thank you for breakfast. Mind if I stay here awhile?  
Sent at 9:37AM  
Francis felt his heart sing, though he was reading it now three hours later, he couldn't wait to see him.  
To Artie  
Of course mon lapin! My home is yours!<3  
Sent at 12:18PM  
\-------  
Arthur was feeling much better. Francis had lots of fashion shows recorded, Say Yes To The Dress, What Not To Wear, Project Runway, America’s Next Top Model, and then there were also cooking shows like Hell's Kitchen too. Arthur played an episode of Say Yes To The Dress so he could attempt to understand fashion. The first bride was a real loud one. She wanted a big-ass ball gown with every bit of bling laying around the store. Arthur watched as she cried when she put on a feather and jeweled saying it was perfect.  
“But that's hideous!” Arthur barked at the TV, not knowing that Francis stood outside the door chuckling. “Less is more, Miss!” He stated before he sat back and began to fast forward the commercials. A click rang through the room as a warning. Then, the loud, blond, French frog burst in saying how much it meant to him that his guest liked the croissants he made. Arthur hid his blush and greeted the man as well. There we some noise coming from the kitchen and the Frenchman sat next to Arthur with an almost full glass of wine in his hand and a smile on his face.  
“Typical” Arthur spat  
“Rude” Francis said back before taking a long drink from his glass “Have you enjoyed my home mon ami?”  
“Yes it's very nice” Francis smirked into his glass and looked over to the Brit. His hair was a mess, just like the time they first met, he was in his clothes from yesterday and the crumbs from the bread could be seen on his lovely green pants.  
“I should be going” he said suddenly “I have work to do, and I bet you do so I shouldn't be here interfering”  
“Arthur you are more than welcome-” But it was too late. The Brit grabbed his jacket and shoes and left without putting them on. ~what has gotten into him?”  
\-------  
Arthur's face felt like lava. He was blushing like mad and he didn't even know why. The way the frog looked at him just made him feel bubbly and happy. The blue eyes had pierced into his own, and the undone buttons of his shirt had shown the marks from last night. Arthur jammed his finger into the the elevator button willing it to go down the few floors so he could crash into his couch drink some tea and just think of how in love with Francis he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dont own the mentioned shows or characters


	5. Crepes, Burnt Scones And Job Offers

Today was Friday, Francis never goes into work on Fridays and Saturdays. He's put the place in the hands of his other staff, trusts them to make all brides look beautiful, and not to take anyone into the back room. He rolled over and looked out the window. It was currently five in the morning. He had no idea why he was awake, he just woke up and could not fall back asleep. He rolled over once more, facing away from the city lights. Eventually he sighed in despair as he left the warmth of his bed and stalked into the kitchen. He flinched as his bare feet hit the cold, hardwood flooring of the kitchen and again as the harsh, bright lights flicked on. He pulled his hair into a high ponytail and pulled on an apron...Might as well make something in his free time. As he pulled his ingredients from the cabinet, he decided he wanted to text Arthur. ~Je suis un idiot!~ he thought, angrily smacking the sugar jar on the counter ~There's no way he's up...Besides! I do not even own my love’s number~ Francis gasped at the thought. His love. He's never thought of the gentleman like that. Sure he's thought of kissing him and seeing him every day...He never told himself that he was falling for the Brit since he seemed not to share the love back. He shook his head as he continued with his crepes, slowly putting his ingredients into a bowl. The eggs, the flour, then the sugar... He had to find a way to see the man today, but how. An idea smashed into his brain and quickly, he dumped more and more mixture into his bowl. He was going to make a shit-ton of crepes. He got two pans on the stove at once, heating them. The speaker was hooked to his phone so he could listen to the beautiful songs of his country while he scrambled to make twenty or more crepes to take to his crush’s apartment. He chuckled at the word ‘crush’...He had not had one of those in awhile. He sang along, not too loud, as seven o'clock approached. Smiling, he diced fruits, melted chocolate, put them into separate containers and dashed to get ready. He knew Arthur left for work at ten, so if he could get to his home at eight thirty, they would be able to eat together. Francis’ stomach growled but he ignored it and continued to apply a billion hair products into his blond hair. He decided to wear something more casual. He threw on a navy cardigan over a white t-shirt, skinny jeans, white converse, a French flag scarf (one of his favorite accessories) and a brown belt that no one could see unless his shirt rode up. While he brushed his teeth he decided that he didn't have time for contacts and retrieved his glasses and before he left he pulled his unruly hair back into a ponytail again and off he went, crepe containers in hand. Once he got to the door, he hesitated...What if the adorable man was still sleeping? He pressed his ear against the door to hear the news on inside and a faucet running. Then, he plastered on a smile and knocked on the white door separating the two. 

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Arthur put the towel under the sink again. He burnt his scones and had to throw them out. His apartment smelled of smoke and the counter tops were covered in flour and other appliances. He ran a damp hand through his hair as he heard a knock on his door. ~What is someone doing here at eight thirty in the morning?!~ he trudged to the door, peeking into the peephole to see Francis. ~FRANCIS?!~ he nearly fell on his ass when he leapt back from the door. He quickly flung open the windows to let out the smoke smell and threw his robe into his bedroom before opening the front door.   
“Francis? What are you doing here?” He asked, hoping he didn't sound rude.  
“I know you're a working man, and I decided to make you breakfast. I hope you like crepes...I woke up early and could not fall back asleep so I just made a whole bunch” Arthur stood in the doorway, staring. 〜he made him breakfast?〜   
“Uh- Yes come on in” The frog smiled at him and flounced into his apartment.   
“I never did ask you where you work…’” He said as he began to set out the crepes, trying to start a casual conversation.  
“I’m a receptionist in a way...I kind of go between a worker who writes reports all the time to fetching coffee when the boss calls for it”   
“Well that sounds pretty tiring”  
“Damn right” Arthur remarked before plopping down into one of the wooden chairs sat at his kitchen table. He caught a smirk on Francis’ face.  
“Well you don’t seem to enjoy it there huh?”  
“Not one bit, no” A crepe was set onto his plate, it had chocolate and fruits on the side. What Francis said next almost made Arthur choke on said crepe.  
“Well, just keep in mind that I have a few positions open back at my shoppe” He said it so nonchalantly. How often did offer to hire people after making them breakfast? Probably none. Arthur found himself staring and Francis looked a bit uncomfortable for a moment before regaining his composure.   
“Or not-”   
“No!” Arthur said quickly, making Francis jump “I-I mean no. I might have to take you up on that offer...What would I have to do?” Francis beamed a bit as he sat down with a crepe of his own and began to explain all of the job positions he had open. Arthur was only paying a third of his attention of the words coming from his mouth though. He was busy admiring the taste of the crepes...And the man who made them

\-------

Francis felt like he was rambling but he received many nods from the Brit, assuring that he was somewhat intelligible.   
“-And you would have to answer the phones for that job as well. We all share the duty of dealing with complaints or reservations. Usually I’m in the showroom but, I do help on the phone from time to time” Francis decided to shut up and eat his breakfast.   
“Those all sound much better than what i’m doing now” Arthur muttered. Francis heard him, not sure if the words were aimed at him or not, and it made his heart flutter a bit at the thought of being with Arthur all the time. If he did take one of the jobs, Francis would definitely go to work more often.   
“Oh bollocks!” Arthur yelled jumping from his seat “It's 9:45!” He dashed to his room shouting apologies back to Francis, saying something about being rude for leaving his guest. Francis helped himself to the kettle and began heating water for the Englishman. After a few minutes he ran into the living room looking for his shoes and belt. Francis tried to help but didn’t have a clue where they could be...He’s only been on the other man’s house twice now. Eventually he found the black dress shoes and slipped them on. He ran a hand through his blond, messy hair and came into the kitchen with a toothbrush in his mouth.   
“I’m going to make you tea”  
“Yuh dant hahv to”   
“Of course I do cher! You're already in a rush so I should be polite and help you”  
“It’s naht a bug deal” Arthur replied before spitting into the sink. He wiped his mouth and went back to the bathroom. The water seemed hot enough and Francis put a tea bag into a cup with the hot water, hoping he was doing it right...He is more of a coffee person so he has not done this in forever.   
“Francis you really don’t need to do that” Arthur said again as he came back past the kitchen and into the hall, looking for a jacket most likely, as Francis willed the tea to seep faster.  
“Non Arthur! Focus on getting ready” For a moment, he felt as if they lived together, and he was rushing his husband out the door so he could help make money for the family. He shook the thought away...Most likely, that would never happen. Francis dunked the tea bag up and down over and over before dumping the whole cups contents, tea bag included, into metal coffee cup and twisting on the lid. Arthur finally came into the kitchen to retrieve his tea from Francis.  
“Thank you so much” he said, their hands brushing as he took the war cup “I owe you”  
“You don’t owe me a thing darling” Francis replied, smiling  
“You can stay here if you want...If you're going to leave though, please lock the door behind you and close the windows...If you can get the blasted things to close” Francis laughed at the man, assured him that his apartment was in good hands and was then left in the home of his love alone. He sat on the couch and wrapped his arms around one of the British flag pillows...It smelled like smoke. Not only the tobacco smoke, Francis smoked sometimes too and knew the scent, but as if something had been burnt. It also smelled like Arthur's cologne and the sweet smell of tea. It was an odd combination...But it fit the Brit perfectly. What was on his recording list shocked him too. He had America's Got Talent, Hell’s Kitchen, Judge Judy, Sherlock (Not too surprising), Supernatural and many more. He decided that he would find a movie to watch instead so he chose one with a very popular, funny, American woman, Melissa McCarthy. The movie was about her as a millionaire who loses all of her money and sells brownies with a former coworker. He really enjoys the movie...But he ends up falling asleep halfway through, his early rising beginning to take its toll. 

To be continued

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Movie mentioned was Boss with Melissa McCarthy if you guessed it good for you  
> I don't own these characters or the television shows they watch  
> crepes sound really good right now...


End file.
